


A Glimmer of Hope

by TheNights



Series: We've all got problems (and solutions) [2]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Humor, Humour, Hunter - Freeform, OCs - Freeform, a glimmer of hope, destember, destember 2019, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:22:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23369935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNights/pseuds/TheNights
Summary: The number ‘100’ written was just that. A number taking up up such a small space of text and not quite conveying the sheer significance such a figure meant to a previously dying race.
Relationships: Female Guardian & Ghost (Destiny)
Series: We've all got problems (and solutions) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1562206
Kudos: 4





	A Glimmer of Hope

**Author's Note:**

> Destember 02: A Glimmer of Hope
> 
> I'm a Hunter main >:3

She catches it from the corner of her eye, a flicker of movement. Slowly tilting her head, she flexed her grip on her bow and waited. Not long afterwards, a small figure stepped into view cautiously from behind the line of trees 300 metres from Fern’s high perch. Fern lowered her bow, staring unblinkingly. The figure scanned the long grass, gently rustling bushes, listened to the birds and bugs and flowing stream and did not see Fern. They gestured and three more figures appeared. Together, they made their way across the field. 

The air shuddered and, from Fern’s cloak, Shellac materialised. “That’s the third lot we’ve seen this week,” she remarked, shell whirling. “They’re growing” replied Fern, settling down. Not quite relaxed, but less alarmed “I suspect they’re part of the group establishing themselves along the major river in this area” 

“The southern group?”

“No, these ones sit further east”

There’s a soft crack that cuts across the still of the forest and the figures dropped low in an instant. Two did long practised sweeps of the area, rifles held steady and sure. Fern watched, a small smile on her lips. “They're strong”, she observed “smart”. Shellac huffed, swaying lightly and more interested in the dapple of sunlight marking the branch Fern rested on. “Well of course they are” she stated, “they’re human”. Fern nodded in quiet agreement, opened her notebook and added four marks to her tally. Satisfied, she held the book up and admired numerous rows of little black marks. When she had first started, many years ago, more often than not she returned to the Tower and presented nothing but empty pages. These days she had to carry extra just to contain the sheer numbers she recorded.

“I’ll request a formal team” Shellac continued, tone all business and no play “a mix of Guardians and Hawthorne’s group. Get an official count, a supply drop, and add their settlement to the patrol route”. Fern nodded her consent absently, scrawling little stars around her newest tally marks. They glimmered wetly in the light, more striking than any bland report or digital number could ever be. The number ‘100’ written was just that. A number taking up up such a small space of text and not quite conveying the sheer significance such a figure meant to a previously dying race. 100. A hundred humans. A hundred marks of living and breathing people. It filled Fern with bubbles and tingles and excitement that raced through her veins and filled her lungs. 

It was breathtaking. 

“You’re getting all emotional again” Shellac commented dryly, single eye peering at Fern with practised exasperation. “It’s Spring,” said Fern tipping her head up to watch the sky, “Traditionally this is a time of rebirth and renewal. People used to hold festivals and galas, games and competitions. Some did it in the worship of gods and goddesses, whilst others did it as a celebration of people and community.” For a being with no facial features, Fern still marvelled at Shellac’s ability to make such a disgruntled expression. 

Fern paused then went in for the kill “I also get allergies”.

“You do not get allergies” snapped Shellac, huffing at the muffled laugh Fern let out, “Traveller’s light, I should have left your bones where I found them”. 

Fern snickered, making kissing noises just to hear Shellac’s sound of disgust. In the field, the small group of people hurried onwards, oblivious to the pair watching over them, and disappeared down the slope towards the river.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
